


Proximity Theory

by rageprufrock



Series: Directional Theory [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-13
Updated: 2011-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-20 09:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rageprufrock/pseuds/rageprufrock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snapshot, very very AU, obviously, of the Directional Theory universe and the episode, McKay and Mrs. Miller. To the many of you who launched a concentrated attack to get this put up on AO3 -- well played, sirs, well played.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proximity Theory

Meredith's Atlantis is surprisingly like his own Atlantis, Rod thinks with deep satisfaction. He'd been prepared for any and all possibilities -- "Jesus, Rodney, they could have tentacles or be cannibals!" John had snapped, fingers flying over a control pad -- and he was glad to see that all the important things were the same: Elizabeth, Teyla, Ronon, the city, the scientists, and even Meredith, despite his bluster, was as familiar as the back of his own hand.

It's only Sheppard, Rod thinks, walking the halls of Atlantis and trying not to miss home -- to miss his own Atlantis and his own Teyla and Ronon and John who was probably incredibly pissed about his jacket by now and would have to always be pissed about the jacket from here on out -- who is baffling him.

Rod is trying not to map too many of his own universe's characteristics on the people here, but Sheppard -- though he's been perfectly nice and completely welcoming -- seems slightly off, a little reticent. He seems, if possible, a little too minor key.

So he's glad to find Sheppard at the low pier where they'd hit a bucket of balls earlier, leaning against a pylon with a book balanced in his lap, staring at the water lapping at the edges of Atlantis. Rod watches him for a moment and promises to keep his hands to himself -- that he knew the consequences when he came here and knows that however he feels now, he's only beginning to realize the loss.

So he takes a few steps forward and says, "Hey there," and sees Sheppard whip around, eyes round with surprise and that upsets him, too, for some reason: that John wouldn't recognize him, even though Rod knows it's irrational.

"Hey," Sheppard says, a little startled. "Hey back."

Rod motions at the ground next to John and John says, "Oh, go ahead," and Rod sits down, folding his legs Indian style and staring out at the wide, wide ocean, amazed all over again by the scope of it, by how it looks and feels and smells and tastes the same and is so far away that he can never go home.

They're silent for a moment until Sheppard says, "How're you adjusting?"

Rod shakes his head. "I'm not." He looks at Sheppard's curious face. "Well, yet. It's going to take some time to get my head around this."

Sheppard feigns surprise. "You? And your head? Lies."

"Ha ha ha," Rod says dryly. "You weren't kidding about your Rodney, were you."

John goes silent and totally still for a moment. And when he smiles, it's utterly mean. "No," he says. "I wasn't."

Rod feels his whole body go tight and worried, because John might be persnickety and annoying, to dedicate more emotional muster to the Mensa committee than to Rod sometimes, but John is never _mean_.

"What," Rod snaps, finally impatient, because something has been off-step this entire time and the blank whiteness of it is roaring in his ears. "What happened?"

Sheppard stares at him for a long, long moment before he shakes his head -- like he's shaking off a memory -- and he says, "Nothing -- sorry. I shouldn't -- sorry," and goes, leaving Rod sitting there, perplexed and vaguely nauseated.

\-----

Since Sheppard has apparently been too emotionally-damaged to talk about what happened when Rod was cheerfully harrasing his own John into going on dates with him, Rod goes to the next best source: his evil twin. Trapping Meredith alone somewhere is ridiculously easy and it takes exactly 12 seconds for him to figure out why Rod is glaring at him like that.

"God that fucking tattletale," Meredith hisses, furious and low. "And before you start thinking that I pimped him out or punched him during sex let's clear the air here and say that _he_ dumped _me._ "

" _Why?_ " Rod enunciates.

Rodney's eyes go all dark and deep and breathless, and it takes him a moment before he says, "It was a mistake. I didn't mean to -- I don't know if you have a Hartsfield in your own universe -- "

And that's all it takes before Rod rears back and punches Rodney in the face, because all he can imagine is John's expression collapsing, his shoulders slumping, and how he might -- like he did when news of his father had come through the wormhole that time -- curl into himself in a corner of the city and let it rock him until Rod had finally found him, miserable and limp.

"All right," Rodney says, lying on the ground staring up. "I deserved that."

" _Fuck!_ " Rod hisses and storms off.

\-----

It takes Rod nearly two hours to get it together enough to go find Sheppard again, and by the time he knocks on Sheppard's door he's almost convinced himself that this is stupid and that they're both adults and it's not any of his business. But then he sees Sheppard's face, too thin and dusky and already upset and he says, "fuck it" in his head and wraps his arms around Sheppard's shoulders, invites himself into Sheppard's quarters, says quietly and over and over again, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," John says after a while, his arms unlocking and settling on Rod's hips. "It's not -- it wasn't you."

"It's not okay," Rod says fiercely, and he can't lift his head because then John would see that his eyes are too shiny and this might start feeling a little gay. "He shouldn't have done it."

"I personally thought it was genius," John says wryly.

The total ridiculousness of the situation hits with the velocity of a train and Rod lets an out a huff of laughter, pulling away from Shepaprd and feeling like a moron because it's not him and it's not John and _he_ would never do it, but neither should Meredith. He can't help it, and he feels Sheppard laughing, too, hellpless and inappropriate but what the hell else could they _do?_

"I punched him -- me -- in the mouth," Rod admitted, wiping at his eyes. "I hope you don't mind."

"Well, it's been a year," Sheppard says diplomatically, fingers still ghosting on Rod's hips.

"Really hard," Rod promises, which makes Sheppard chuckle, low and almost like a breath.

Later, Rod will probalby spend a long time trying to figure out who kissed whom first, but at the moment, all he can feel is John's familiar palm cupping his cheek -- so sweetly he once-upon-a-time would have claimed it couldn't possibly be. And when he feels John's mouth on his own, soft, slightly chapped lips at the corners of his, he murmurs something wordless and wanting and pulls John closer, until they're chest to chest and John's other hand is urgent, bruising fingerprints into his hip.

"This might be a bad idea," John whispers as Rod peels off his shirt.

"I think it's a great idea," Rod tells him confidently.

John raises one eyebrow and smirks. "Well, if you think so."

"I really -- " Rod kisses underneath his jaw " -- really -- " the convex of his throat " -- do," he promises.

"You _are_ a genius," John allowed, and arched beneath him, dragging Rod down onto the bed.

"Well," Rod manages to say, and it's the _last_ coherant thing he manages to say, "so are you."

Rod spends some ethically questionable time watching John sleep, after, noting his every sameness and difference, the wild mess of his hair and the sweet softness of his mouth and his pointy collarbones, his long, long lashes. He brushes a string of soft, open-mouthed kisses down the inside of John's arm before he says, very quietly and mostly to himself, "I wish things were different for you."

\-----

They don't get another chance, really, to talk or touch before everything goes pear-shaped and Rod's throwing himself in a probably-doomed one-way ticket back to his own galaxy, but when he tumbles out into his own reality, John's huge, hazel eyes staring at him in a combination of shock and gratitude Rod completely forgets that his John is in the Air Force, too.

"What the fuck are you doing?" John squawks, and tries to pull Rod off of him, looking frantically around the room at the wildly-celebrating Atlantis crew and the hysterical scientists. "Jesus, Rodney!"

"Thank God," Rod says into John's neck. "Oh my God -- thank God." His hands are fisted in the back of John's shirt and he can feel John's heart racing against his chest and a sudden, inevitable softening, a release, and John sighs and wraps his arms around Rod's middle, stroking up and down his back.

"Well," John mutters, annoyed and much later in the day, after debriefings and after a celebratory drink. After Rod has made his excuses and gone to John's room, curled up in John's bed and breathed deeply of the pillows and waited for John to come back at the end of the day. "Thanks for keeping them from ripping the fabric of the universe, I guess, you big queer."

"It was a pleasure," Rod says, and he smiles because it's terrible what he found there, but he's home now and John will want his jacket back, and everything will be okay. "I'm glad I'm back." John watches him for a moment, wordless. "I'm glad you're you and I'm me."

John raises an eyebrow. "Were they that bad?" he asks strangely.

"No," Rod says, and extending a hand, pulls John onto the bed and in close, buries his face in John's shoulder and lets John stroke his hair like a child. He's breathing in and out and in and out until his body starts to acclimatize again to being safe here, to being home. "No -- I was. He was."

"Like anybody could be worse than you," John says.

"He was worse off, anyway," Rod murmurs. "Let's not talk about it."

"You started it," John sighs, sounding tired. "I'll find out eventually anyway you know. A 5 year-old could hack that file system. _You_ could hack that file system."

Rodney thinks about John Sheppard up at the crack of dawn hitting golf balls into the ocean and his own John, in bed until noon and sullen an hour afterward, cheerfully molesting all the science experiments although technically he's not one of the scientists -- the desperate thrall both of them seem to hold over their subordinates, and he can't help but laugh.

"You've lost it," John pronounces. "All that dimensional travel made you insane."

"No," Rod promises. "No -- I'm just really glad to be back," he says, because he really really is.

It helps, too, he realizes later, drifting off to bed after John has helped undress him and tuck him underneath the sheets, sweet and obliging like no one else in the city really sees, that Rod knows he still has this, has John who likes to kiss for hours, who likes to play with Rodney's fingers just to play with Rodney's fingers, and who will, later and probably always, like to laugh into his mouth, against Rod's skin.

"Stop thinking," John whispers into his shoulder. "You're keeping me awake."

"Fine, fine," Rod says, and sleeps.


End file.
